“That clear obscure,
So softly dark, and darkly pure.”
Along the right bank two campfires were burning brightly. Toward one of these our guide was steering. He knew that his camp (constructed by himself, and therefore his by every right) was occupied, but was bent on turning the intruders out. We found a guide sitting calmly by the fire, and awaiting the return of his party to supper. They had gone up “Marcy,” he said, and two of them were ladies, and it would be very hard for them to have to seek another camp after their day’s climb. He had supposed our camp would not be wanted. There was one of his own on the other side, just as good, and we could have that. Well, of course, we three, when we heard of ladies, used our influence with Trumble, who slowly relented, and then rowed us over to the other shore. Yes, the camp was as good, and all about it; but we were on the wrong side for seeing the moon rise, and felt not a little disappointed.
While the guide was making the fire the Colonel proposed that we should row up the lake and look for deer. So we went; but not a sign of any such quadruped could we see. Our view of the lake, though, repaid us; and when we returned, we found a splendid fire and a savory supper. These fires are kept up all night. They are close in front of the camp. This species of “camp” is a hut or shed, built of logs and securely roofed with birch bark. Sloping upward from behind, it stands open to the air in front. The floor is
strewed with spruce boughs, or some other equally suitable; and when over this covering a “rubber blanket” is placed, you have quite a comfortable bed. Did we sleep, though? Very fairly for the first night out.
And here I am tempted to end this epistle; for no other day of our whole trip brought anything to compare with the exquisite surprises of this first day in the woods. But I know you will not be satisfied if I fail to take you up Mt. Marcy and round through Indian Pass.
Well, then, we started for “Marcy” (as the guides call it) next morning, right after breakfast. Our breakfast, by the way, was unusually good for Friday. The Colonel and Trumble had risen early and caught a nice string of brook trout. The brook was near the head of the lake. We also supped on trout, which the Colonel and I got from Marcy Brook, a mountain stream we reached about noon.
The ascent from the lake was decidedly a “pull,” the more so, no doubt, from the reluctance with which we took leave of the lake. We felt the climb that day more than any climb we had afterward. A mile, too, of this kind seems equal, in point of distance, to three or four miles on ordinary ground. Having rested by Marcy Brook for dinner, we pushed on in the afternoon for Panther Gorge, where we found a good camp unoccupied, which served us for the night. The Judge was very eager to scale Marcy that evening, in order to get the view from it by moonlight. We met a gentleman coming down, who said he had been on Marcy the night before, and described the moonlight view as the finest sight he had ever witnessed. We also met some ladies belonging to the
same party. Still, I think it was as well we did not go up that night; for it would have sorely taxed our strength. I have recently been told of persons who brought on disease, and died within a year or two after, by rash exertion among these mountains. This sort of thing seems to me consummate folly. More than that, it is a sin. We had come on the excursion not only to see, but, equally, to gain vigor. Having, then, plenty of time and ample provisions, there was no use in straining ourselves to gratify vanity or anything else.
Panther Gorge must have taken its name from that truculent animal having “infested” there (as Josh Billings would say). But the bounty set on beasts of prey current in these woods seems to have made them very scarce; for the only specimen we met with all the way was a dead bear rotting in a trap. The gorge itself is wild, but not particularly romantic. We got a view of it from a place called “The Notch,” near the summit of Mt. Marcy, where we rested to dine. There is a sort of camp at this spot, but a poor thing to pass a night in. There is also a most convenient spring. Indeed, we had reason to be very grateful for the springs and rills of delicious water which abounded all along our line of march.